


Be Careful Making Wishes in the Dark

by theshimmydean



Series: Yourself or Someone Like You [1]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:18:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshimmydean/pseuds/theshimmydean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People are dying in their homes and no one can seem to figure out why. Even the Winchesters are at a loss. The boys investigate and find that they may have some unexpected company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Be Careful Making Wishes In the Dark

 

 

“Well you’re talking ‘bout China Grove. Woah oh China Grove!” Dean Winchester tapped his fingers on the wheel as he sang along. “Man, I knew this tape would come in handy someday! China Grove! The Doobie Brothers were actually here all those years ago.” He looked over at his brother and got the old you’re-talking-about-music-I-don’t-listen-to expression. Again. He shrugged it off and continued on with the next verse.

Sam rolled his eyes. Four years his senior and Dean still managed to act like a five year old. “Right. So, back to the actual case, it looks like there have been… roughly twelve deaths since last Wednesday. They were all found in their homes. Most had locked doors and windows. No sign of forced entry…”

“Demons? Spirits?”

“Maybe but we can’t be sure yet. No signs of any demonic omens. No local legends floating around either.”

Dean nodded his head to the beat while he listened. “Shape shifter?”

“Doubt it.” Sam pulled out a folder of newspaper clippings and articles. “They’re always so messy about stuff like this. It says in the local papers that the cause of death is unknown for all of the victims. Not really a shape shifter’s style.”

“Guess we’ll have to check it out then.” The song ended and Dean heard a barely-audible sigh come from Sam’s direction. A grin slid onto his face as he started the tape over.  
“When the sun comes up on a sleepy little town down around San Antone…”

“Really, Dean?”

\----------------

They arrived at China Grove police station, fake badges in hand. The cheap suits rubbed in some rather uncomfortable places but it was hardly the worst part of the job. Besides, the aliases were a plus. “Excuse me,” Dean said to an officer, flipping open the latest version of his FBI badge. “I’m Agent Hartman. This is my partner, Agent Spence. We have a few questions about the recent murders in town.”

“Officer Peligram,” the man said, shaking their hands. “The FBI isn’t the only one with questions. Thought the team we sent out for the first case was lying, crazy, or high but it was true. The houses were intact and so were the bodies. Not a scratch on them. Even their hair and clothes were perfect.” He paused for a moment, giving the two brothers another once-over. “Why is the FBI sending agents down here, anyways?”

“It’s a highly unusual case, officer. We’re just covering our bases. Making sure that nothing got over looked,” Sam said with practiced precision. 

Officer Peligram nodded, his expression uncertain. “Homeland Security sent someone down, too. It’s getting pretty serious around here.”

“Wait, did you say Homeland Security dropped by?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Just the one agent, though. Ran some pretty weird questions by me. Asked me if there had been a weird smell at the crime scene, like…”

“Sulfur?”  
“Yeah, that’s it. Not your typical investigative questions, I’ll give you that. She said there’s a possibility the victims could have been poisoned with it, so I guess it’s not totally unreasonable.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “She?”

“That was unusual, too. It’s not like the feds to send out a lone female agent.” He studied their faces for a moment. “Do you know her?”

Sam jumped in before his brother had time to come up with a cover story. “We do, actually. Our superiors gave us orders to trade notes with the representative from Homeland. We don’t actually have a way to contact her. Did she say where she was going?”

“Santa Rosa Memorial in San Antonio. She only left about an hour ago. You could probably meet up with her there.” He stopped for a moment and then began to rustle through the papers on his desk. “Actually, she did leave a number. Said to call if we found something.” He handed Dean a slip of paper with seven digits and the words Agent Larkin written in messy, slanted handwriting. 

“Thank you, Officer.” Dean said as he slipped the paper into his pocket. “We’ll be in touch.”

\-----------------  
“What do you think?” Sam asked the moment they left the precinct. 

“I think we’ve either run across another hunter or some really eccentric fed,” Dean replied, fishing out the keys to the Impala. 

Sam shrugged. “We’ve seen weirder”

Dean paused and nodded. “A female hunter? And alone, too?”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t be sexist. It could happen.”

“C’mon, Sammy. How many lady hunters have we actually met? This job ain’t for the faint of heart.” For a brief moment, Dean tried to picture their mother fighting alongside their dad. He just couldn’t. “Let’s just get going. Maybe we can catch whoever it is before they leave and see what they know.”

\------------------

They drove into San Antonio just as the 5 o’clock rush hit. Cars were lined up for miles and moving at a painfully slow pace. After a ten minute stand-still, Dean slammed his hands down on the wheel. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We haven’t gone a quarter mile in the last 25 minutes and if I see one more Taco Cabana on the side of the road, I’m going to shoot myself in the foot.”

“I told you not to take 1604,” Sam said, not even bothering to look up from his notes.  
“Shut up, Sam.”

“Maybe if you’d quit bitching and find an exit, we could find a back road that’s faster.”

Dean snapped his head in his brother’s direction and pointed towards himself. “Driver.” He pointed to Sam. “Not driver.”

\--------------------

Once the Impala was parked in front of the hospital, the two brothers climbed out, straightened their jackets, and walked inside. “I told you it would be faster,” Sam said quietly.  
Dean shot his brother a rather deadly look and walked up to the receptionist at the front desk. A few flips of the badges and a suggestive wink later, they were heading down a hall to the morgue. Luckily for them, the head doctor was in doing a check-up on his latest ‘patient.’ “Dr. Roberts, is it?”

An older man with wiry white hair and thick round glasses looked up from a clip board. He glanced over at Sam and Dean for a moment and then back down, seemingly unimpressed. “Yes, that’s me.” He sounded quite bored to Dean. That’s new. Usually, the sight of a government agent would be enough to put anyone on guard. 

“Doctor, we-“

“Are here to see the bodies. Am I right?”

Dean looked over at Sam with a questioning look. “Yes, sir. I’m Agent Hartman and this is my partner, Agent Spence. We’re with the FBI and-“

“Looks, boys. Just show me your badges and we’ll get this over with. I’ve already dealt with some suits today and I’m not itching to do it again,” Dr. Roberts said. He scanned their badges and handed them back.

“Did Homeland Security happen to drop by, sir?

“Yeah, they sent someone. She was a pushy little thing. Never stood still, either,” the doctor said as he led them to the bodies. He handed Dean several different clipboards as Sam inspected the victims. “Here are the official reports. See what you can make of them.”

Dean looked through the papers, his frown growing steadily as he switched from victim to victim. He looked up at Sam. His brother’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern. “Doc, what exactly did the victim’s die from?”

The old man rolled his eyes. “Suits…” he muttered. “That’s the big question, boys. There’s been no sign of trauma, injury, poisoning, heart attacks, strokes…nothing. It’s like they dropped dead of their own accord.”

The brothers exchanged looks again. Dean nodded, his jaw setting into a grimace. “Well, thanks Doc. If we can get copies of these reports, we’ll get out of your hair.” Or whatever’s left of it, Dean thought as he eyed the wispy white strands upon the man’s head.

“That’s what the front desk is for, son.” The doctor snatched the clipboards back up and walked briskly out of the room. 

The boys walked back up to the front desk, quietly discussing the case. “So,” Sam said, “what do we have now? A dozen victims without signs of any illness, injury, or malady. Locked and secured homes. This just isn’t adding up, Dean.”

“You’re telling me. Look, let’s just get back to the motel and do some more research. Maybe there’s something we missed.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re actually the first one suggesting starting on research?”

“You got a better idea, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, actually. The whole thing with Homeland Security is a little unnerving. I was thinking that I’d do some of the research, maybe give Bobby a call, and you’d go figure out who we’re dealing with.”

“What and you think I can’t do that?”

“Dean, your idea of research is scanning the first page of Google and then spending an extended amount of time investigating Busty Asian Beauties.com.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue but found that there really wasn’t anything he could say that would help his case. “Alright, fine. But I call dibs if she’s hot,” he said as they reached the front desk. He shot the receptionist a smoldering grin that won him both the records and the girl’s phone number. Sam only shook his head and thanked the poor girl for her help.

\--------------------------

 

Just as they had discussed, Dean dropped Sam off at the motel to start his research. He decided to visit the last victim’s family. Chances were that the mystery hunter had made a stop there. It wasn’t much of a lead; the elderly woman whose nephew was the latest victim didn’t say much he didn’t already know. She was able to describe the woman with a little more detail. Her comments, however, seemed to be a tad unreliable. 

“Well,” the woman said, “she looked like one of those look-a-like dolls little girls carry around these days.” Dean just stared for a moment. Old Mrs. Collins smiled up at him serenely. 

So much for that lead, Dean thought. On the bright side, the phone number Agent Larkin had given the old woman was the same one he and Sam had picked up from the police station. If all else failed, they could at least try to trace the phone. 

After leaving the residence, Dean made a quick call to check on Sam. “So far, I haven’t found anything we don’t already know. The old lady was a little off. We do have the right number so far, though.”

“Well, that’s something I guess.”

“How’s the research going?”

“So far, nada. Nothing is adding up, Dean. I don’t know of any monster that just leaves their victims…dead. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“What about Bobby? What did he say?”

“Pretty much the same thing I told you. He said he’ll make a few calls and see if he can get some more info but for now, we’re pretty much stuck.”

Dean grimaced. “Awesome. Listen, I’m gonna keep looking around for a while. I’ll call if I find something.”

“Alright.” There was a pause on the other end that made Dean dread what was coming next. “Are you doing okay, Dean?”

Dean sighed and rubbed his chin. “I’m fine, Sam. Just do your research.”

“It’s only been a few weeks since Dad-“

“Bye Sam.” Dean flipped his phone closed and shoved it into his pocket. Sam was always the one who wanted to talk about feelings and other chick-flick stuff like that. Leave it to the pain-in-the-ass little brother to keep bringing it up. Besides, he was pretty sure Sam didn’t want to know what was going on in his head. It was his job to protect his brother, especially from things like that. Gotta look after Sammy. Promised Dad. Dean sat in the Impala for a moment, brooding. He turned his gaze to the old woman’s house across the street. 

If his eyes hadn’t been on the front door at that very moment, he would have entirely missed the young woman walking up the steps. It was hard for him to make out much. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to get a better look. When the door was opened, he could clearly see a badge in her hand. Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed Sam’s number. “She’s at the Collins’ house. Meet me here. The address is in the files.” He ended the call before Sam could even reply. He had to intercept the hunter before she disappeared. 

Dean waited patiently in the car for about twenty minutes. He couldn’t see into the windows from where he was but didn’t want to risk being discovered prematurely. He kept his eyes trained on the front door, waiting not-so-patiently for her to reappear. Movement caught his eye as the front door opened again. As quietly as he could, Dean opened the door to the Impala and headed in the direction of the young women walking down the steps. He tried his best to be discreet but his cover was blown when Mrs. Collins stepped outside. “There’s the nice young man I was telling you about! He works with the FBI. So secretive and mysterious.” 

The girl’s head snapped in his direction, her eyes piercing right through him. Never before had Dean been more sympathetic towards the many deer he’d hit over the years. Barely breaking stride, he walked over to them with one of his famous smiles plastered on his face. “Hi Mrs. Collins,” Dean said. “Would you like to introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh, yes of course. Agent Hartman, this is Agent Larkin. From Homeland Security.” The old woman looked from one hunter to the other, smiling obliviously. Dean turned to the young woman before him, finally able to get a good look at her. She had reddish-blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her neck and fell halfway down her back. Pale skin and blue-green eyes matched the hair to complete her complexion. Her grey pantsuit made her legs look long and slender but in reality, she was a very small person. She couldn’t have been more than 5’4” and that was with at least three-inch heels, Dean noticed. Not the build of a typical hunter. The girl’s size was a surprise but her facial features concerned him. She looked very young in the face. Barely fifteen years old, if he had to guess. This is new.  
Dean stuck out his hand. “Hi. You can call me Dean.”

Agent Larkin took his hand and shook it with a strength that didn’t quite match her stature. “Pleasure.”

“And what can I call you?” Dean asked playfully. 

“Agent Larkin. Forgive me, Agent Hartman, but I don’t do first names,” she said, venom dripping from her voice.

“Fair enough. Agent Larkin, if you don’t mind, I’d like to compare notes with you over the murder cases. The bureau asked that we collaborate with Homeland Security on this one. I’m sure your superiors told you we’d be coming to meet you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly and a poisonous smile slid onto her face. “Of course. I have to grab something from my car first. I’ll only be a moment.”

Dean chuckled. Nice try, sweetheart. “No need. I’ll just go with you.”

She stiffened a little but didn’t argue. It was obvious that there wasn’t anything she could say that would pass as a legitimate argument. “Thank you, Mrs. Collins. I’ll let you know if I find anything new.”

“Thank you, dear.” With that, the old woman walked back inside, humming something that sounded suspiciously like Michael Jackson. 

Dean raised an eyebrow and then turned back to see the girl walking away. “Hey! Hold up for a second.” It was like she didn’t hear him. Dean had to jog to keep up. When he reached her, he grabbed her arm to keep her from running away. “Look, just give me a min-“ Before he could even finish the sentence, she had knocked his hand away and shoved an elbow into his face. Dean felt his nose break and staggered back, shocked. Nice aim, he thought as he blinked through watering eyes to see the girl running towards a beat-up blue Lumina. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he took off after her. Dean had to hand it to her; running from him in high heels was an exceptional feat. Still, he did have longer legs than she did. 

This time, Dean managed to wrap his arms around her torso. She started to kick and squirm but Dean soon had her pinned up against her car. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Before you scream or do something stupid, just hear me out. Now, I’m going to let you go but only if you’ll agree to listen.” She looked up at him, fuming but eventually nodded. Dean released her and took a step away. “Okay then. So-“

“Cut the bullshit, okay? I know that you’re a hunter and you know that I’m one too. I don’t know if you’re trying to engage in some sort of territorial stand-off or what but you need to back off.” Her voice was icy and far from that of the innocent girl she seemed to be. 

“I could help.”

“I don’t want or need help from anyone,” she sneered.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Dean studied her face for a moment. There was hardness in it that he’d only seen twice; in his father’s face and in the mirror every day. “How long have you been on this case?”  
“Three days. And I’m about to wrap it up so I would really appreciate it if you would let me get on with it,” the girl spat. 

“Wait, so you know what this thing is,” Dean inquired.

A smug smile appeared on her face. “And I’m guessing that you don’t?” She laughed. “This just keeps getting more and more interesting.”

Dean’s narrowed. “Look, bitch. If you’d just tell me what the hell it is you’re hunting-“

“I’d never be rid of you. I can handle myself. This isn’t exactly my first hunt, douchebag.”

“Right. But it would be safer if you weren’t alone,” Dean reasoned.

“I’ve survived this long by myself. I think I can handle it.”

Her eyes locked with Dean’s for a long moment. He could see that there was no way he was going to talk her out of it. The only other option was to stop her by force but he felt uncomfortable with that for some reason. Something about her made him sense that it wouldn’t stop her either. 

Without saying a word, she climbed into the driver’s seat of the car. Before closing the door, Dean spoke again. “So, you’re still not gonna tell me your name.”  
She looked up with a devious grin on her face. “You can only wish, pretty boy.” 

\----------------------

As she drove away, Dean pulled out his phone again to call Sam. “You got a visual?”

“Yep. She’s taking a left onto the main highway,” Sam replied, the rumble of a car’s engine humming in the background.  
“Good job, Sammy. Call me when she stops and I’ll meet you there.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean follow Agent Larkin and find themselves in a bit of a mess.

Dean met Sam in the parking lot of a motel not far from theirs. Sam had stolen a small silver car after Dean called him and headed in the direction of the Collins’ house. Instead of rendezvousing with his brother, he waited on the corner of the block in case the girl ran. A year back into the hunting business, Sam was as sharp as ever.

Pulling the Impala to a stop, Dean walked over the driver’s window and tapped on the glass. Sam looked up from his binoculars and motioned for his brother to join him. Dean took shotgun, shifting uncomfortably the almost-too-clean seats. “Whose car did you steal, Sam? Soccer mom of the year?”

Sam gave Dean one of his famous bitch faces. “That 90-pound girl did a good job on your face.”

 Dean brought a hand up to his nose and looked in the mirror. Dried blood covered his upper lip and dribbled down his chin. “Fantastic.” He attempted to rub it away with his thumb but gave up in the end. “What room is she in?”

“Room 7. She’s been in there for about fifteen minutes. It looks like we may be here for a while.”

Dean grimaced. “Can we at least ditch the mom-mobile? I’m getting the urge to fix you a snack and make sure you have your seatbelt on.”

 

Sam had been right; three hours later and there hadn’t been a sign of the girl. Dean had insisted on playing the same Doobie Brother’s tape over and over again, which Sam promptly hid while his brother went out for a coffee run.

Dean soon returned and frowned at the change in music. “What happened to China Grove?”

Sam shrugged.

Dean thought about arguing but decided last second that they had bigger fish to fry than just each other. He didn’t like the situation; they had used up all of their resources trying to find out what they were hunting and now had to rely on the skills of a barely-legal-looking girl. He felt next-to-useless and simply hated it.

He almost missed it when the small blond slipped out of the motel. Again. Dean made a mental note to either check his eyesight or plant a tracking device on her. “Alright, here we go.” Taking the binoculars from his brother, he followed the girl’s path closely. She had abandoned her expertly-tailored suit for a black v-neck, a pair of sinfully-tight jeans, knee-high boots, and a leather jacket. Dean let out a whistle and Sam swallowed and shifted in his seat. “She dresses down _very_ nicely.”

“Not why we’re here, Dean.”

“C’mon Sammy. Tell me you don’t wish you hadn’t at least cleaned out the pipes.”

One of his brother’s bitch faces and a rev of the engine later, Dean had the Impala on the same course Larkin’s beat-up car was taking. They followed her across town to an abandoned warehouse. The metal of the exterior was a dark, weathered grey. Coppery rust lined the points where the building met the ground, no doubt the result of the past floods or heavy rains. After parking out of sight, the boys crept inside. There was no telling what they would find so they kept a firm grip on their guns as they maneuvered through each abandoned room.

“Damn, that kid can move,” Dean whispered. “I didn’t think we were this far behind her.”

“We weren’t. I was sure that we stayed close enough to-“ Suddenly, Sam was thrown back into the wall and the rest of his sentence was never able to make its way into the world.

“ _Sam!”_ Dean rushed to his brother’s side, gun held at the ready, but found himself flying across the room before he could reach him. Any breath he had was knocked out of his lungs and left him gasping on the floor. on the floor. He fumbled for his weapon as he struggled for breath. Climbing slowly to his knees and then to his feet he kept a look out for whatever had attacked them as he moved towards his brother.

"Sammy, talk to me man." Dean nudged his brother with the tip of his steel toed boot, cursing the darkness as he strained to find anything in the near pitch black room.

"C'mon Sam, don't do this to me right now.” A low groan came from behind him followed by a rustling as Sam sat up.

"Dean? What the hell was that?"

"You're guess is as good as mine right now, you good?" Sam grunted in the affirmative and checked his gun for any damage. Staggering to his feet he grasped the miniature flashlight from his pocket and shone it around the deserted room. Nothing. Dean signaled silently to Sam that they should move on to the next room. The brothers were more conscious of their surroundings as they maneuvered around the room back to back with practiced ease. After searching every inch of the room, the boys were just about ready to give up. Dean turned to Sam. “This isn’t going anyway maybe we should--”

A door at the far end flew open, slamming against the wall with terrifying force.  A tall man with dark hair and black eyes to match sauntered through, dragging ‘Agent Larkin’ in by her neck. The girl struggled, clawing at his hand but it didn’t do any good; demons tend to have an unfair advantage when it comes to strength. “This,” the demon sighed, jerking his head towards his captive, “is what you’re looking for, I assume.”

“Let the girl go,” Dean growled.

Larkin’s head snapped up, her eyes locking with his. Though she still struggled in the demon’s grasp, she was glaring at Dean. “Mind your own business, asshat. I’ve got this.”

The demon laughed, yanking her up and bringing her face closer to his. “There’s something about you hunters; you’re all so damn stubborn and prideful! Never gets you anywhere. Well, except for places like this.”

The girl’s jaw clenched and she squirmed as she tried to gulp down as much oxygen as his grip would allow. “That’s—that’s rich, coming from a-a demon,” she croaked.

The demon paused, as if considering her accusation, and then nodded. “While you have a point, I am growing rather tired of your insulting behavior. It hurts me right where my soul used to be.” Without another word, he flung her across the room. She hit an iron beam with a sickening thud and was still.

Sam and Dean rushed forward and the demon held up a finger. “Not so fast, boys.”

An invisible, but very solid, force knocked them both off their feet. Dean’s first instinct was to see how Sam was but he never had the chance. The next thing he felt was every ounce of energy being drained from his body. It left him gasping for air, though nothing seemed to be blocking his airways. Through his ringing ears he could still hear Sam choking and through that panic, his mind tried to make sense of it. The last time he’d felt this sensation, they’d been hunting reapers… Though his vision was spotting and threatening to black out, he could still make out the flickering image of a grey man in a suit. Fear gripped him as he looked the physical manifestation of death in what were supposed to be its eyes. It was a normal reaction, hunter or no hunter, but it made it worse to think that his brother was suffering the same fate.

“You see, boys; I get my orders from a higher chain. Set fires to orphanages, pitch virgins off a cliff, yada yada. The Big Boss usually sends two of us to finish off whatever sickeningly peaceful town is next on the list and we get the job done. Every once in a while, we meet one of _you_ —hunters—and sometimes you…complicate things. That doesn’t make the Big Man downstairs very happy. As punishment, we have to do the next assignment alone. It sort of…increases the chances of us getting sent back down the Deep Fryer.” The demon walked towards them slowly, gloating with every movement of the body it was possessing. “That’s why I enlisted the help of my friends here. Well, more like pets. And they’ve done an excellent job. I can just sit back and watch while they do the work. Don’t worry; it’s not just a one-sided thing. I stay out of Hell just to raise it another day and they get free souls. Everyone wins. I like my work situation as is and I’m not going to let a couple of Neanderthals like you ruin it.” Dean struggled against the force of the reaper but found that he was losing consciousness more and more rapidly. He had to do something; if he blacked out, there was no way he could help Sam. He had—

“I don’t think that’s how it’s going to work.” Dean turned his head enough to see that Larkin was back on her feet. There was a nasty cut on her forehead but other than that, there was no sign the demon had ever gotten the better of her. That led Dean to think that maybe it never had. In her hand was a cross-like talisman just like the one that preacher’s wife had used to control her reaper. The demon looked over at her, anger taking over its host’s face. He moved towards her but stopped dean in his tracks when she held up a hand. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you. See, this thing, while powerful, is so pitifully _breakable._ I don’t know about you but I have a good idea of what would happen if I accidentally smashed it into tiny bits.”

“You little--”

“Bitch? Is that what you were going for? Honestly, you’d think it would kill you to be just a little more creative.” She was smiling wryly, a slightly terrifying sight when combined with the blood running down the side of her face. “Now, why don’t you release your prisoners before I release mine?”

If looks could kills, and honestly it was within the demon’s range of abilities, the girl would have been a brutal murder victim. Her logic won out and Dean felt the reaper’s powers recede from his body. He slowly sat up, taking in large gulps of oxygen. Sam did the same, his eyes watering as he coughed. While grateful for her assistance, they were staring at Larkin incredulously. “ _Sam,_ ” Dean hissed. His brother nodded, assuring Dean that he was fine. They stood up slowly, cautiously watching Larkin and the demon. Sam reached into his jacket for a large hunting knife and Dean his gun. While neither of the weapons would get rid of a demon, it would still slow one down long enough for them to bind it or, if the worst were to come, get away. With a minute signal from Dean, the brothers began to quietly spread out and attempt to circle the demon. It wasn’t quite enough, though. The demon’s head snapped in their direction. “Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re doing. And what are you going to do? Stab me to death?”

Dean took a mental note to laugh at that later. “It works as a general rule for anything _living_ but hey; I can improvise.”

Whatever the demon was going to say next was lost in an agonizing scream. Larkin tried to sprint past him but, even doused in holy water, this demon was strong and fast. He grabbed her again, making an attempt at the talisman, she countered with speed that matched his. She twisted her body and blocked his advances with furious precision, much to the demon’s frustration.

With the demon preoccupied, Sam and Dean took the opportunity to attack. They used their combined strength to wrench the demon away from Larkin and allow her to throw the talisman at the ground with all of her power. The result was a chorus of inhuman screeches overlapping each other, causing the three humans to cover their ears.

The demon looked up in horror to see the flashing figures of two reapers before them. Dean wasn’t an expert on reaper behavior and their social habits but he was sure those two were pissed. The reapers reached out towards the demon with shriveled grey hands and gripped its arms with unbreakable force. The demon screamed as if it had been branded with a hot iron and it struggled against the reapers but to no avail. The reapers turned their heads in complete synchronicity and focused their gaze on Larkin.

She nodded and then stepped forward. “ _Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…_ ” The words poured from her mouth with practiced precision and Dean had to admit that he was at least mildly impressed. The demon started to convulse and its breathing became labored as the effects of the chant began to take place. The eyes had turned black once more, a sign that the job was almost done. “— _facias libertate servire, te rogamus_ …” Larkin paused for a moment, giving the demon a satisfied smirk, “… _audi nos_.”

The demon let out one final scream as a torrid of black smoke left the host’s body. Seconds later, the body collapsed and any evidence of the demon ever being there was gone. Larkin bent down to check the man’s pulse, nodding to herself when she found what she was looking for and then stood up. “He’s alive but he’ll need to be taken to a hospital. There’s no telling how long he was possessed,” she asserted, directing her words towards Sam and Dean. After brushing some dust off of her jacket and pants, she turned to leave. Dean took one glance at the victim and then called after her.

“You know, I think you owe us an explanation!”

Dean was surprised to see Larkin pause and turn back to him. She studied his face with frightening scrutiny and took a few tentative steps in his direction, the only sound in the room the dull click of her boots on the concrete. “I suppose it’s only fair,” she mused. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but the demon I just exorcised was controlling reapers by means of that talisman to kill innocent people. Because that’s what demons do; they wreak havoc and boil live puppies.”

Sam frowned at her sarcasm. “That’s not what he meant.”

Larkin gave an exasperated look. “What more is there for me to tell you?”

“Let’s start with how you knew what was going on and then we’ll move forward from there,” Dean retorted. The girl bit her lip thoughtfully, her distrust of them blaringly obvious.

“Please,” Sam said softly, using a tone he only brought out with women and children.

Larkin must have taken note and glowered at him. “This demon was very lazy. As he told you, he used the reapers to do most of the work, carrying out the deaths. He was never actually on-location before any of the bodies were found, which is why you wouldn’t have found traces of sulfur at the scene.”

Sam nodded, internalizing the information, but Dean continued to question her. “If there was no trace of a demon, how did you know what it was?”

“Unlike you two, I specialize in one kind of supernatural baddie. I’ll still take another case if I’m in the area but demons are my main priority. There are signs every time a demon touches down on earth and they’re easy to spot if you know what to look for. An electrical storm and a few unusual weather patterns in the surrounding area were the first clues and I just went from there.”

Dean frowned, thinking about the kind of brain power it took to follow random patterns like the ones she was describing. Her intelligence was indisputable, her experience unquestionable, but it was her age that concerned him. However, it was a question that would have to be saved for later. “What’s your name? Your real name would be nice because I don’t think anyone would actually be called ‘Larkin.’”

“Joan Jett,” she said simply.

Sam gave her a strange look. “No, there’s no way--”

“Joan Jett is a stage name. Her last name is Larkin.” Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed. The girl hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clouding her eyes. “Lacey Parks. And before you ask again, that is my real name. I don’t use it very often for, well, obvious reasons.”

“I’m Sam. Winchester. And this is my brother, Dean, whom you’ve already met. Sort of.”

Lacey nodded, giving Dean an unpleasant glance. She faltered and then looked back at Sam. “Did you say Winchester?”

The brothers exchanged apprehensive looks. “Why?” Dean inquired.

“I met a guy named Winchester on a hunt once. It was a while back, at least a year ago. His name was…John.” Sam and Dean both flinched at the name. “Was he family of yours?”

Sam swallowed hard, his chest heaving slightly the way it did when he was suppressing emotion. “Our dad, actually. He, uh…he passed away a few weeks ago.” He waited for her to say something sympathetic but it didn’t come. She didn’t avert her gaze either and Sam had to look down out of discomfort.

Lacey held the silence, making both of the Winchesters uneasy. “He was a good hunter.”

“The best,” Dean said stiffly.

“Hm.” She still didn’t look away; it was as if she was analyzing them, taking in every bit of information that she could. “Do me a favor and get this man,” she jerked her head to the unconscious form on the ground, “to a hospital. He’s not dying or anything but I’m sure he’ll need the care.”

“You’re just going to leave?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yes, I am. I’ve been keeping tabs on more than one demon at a time and I need to get moving before I lose the scent.” There was a cold in her voice that nearly made Dean shiver. He had never heard anyone speak like she did. He wondered what had happened to make her sound so…inhuman.

“At least let us give you our numbers. We can help, if you ever need it,” he told her, digging into his pocket for a copy of their numbers he kept on hand.

“Unless you’ve already forgotten, I’m the one who saved your asses; I don’t need help.” She turned to walk away, her muscles tense.

Sam gave his brother a frustrated look. “Lacey, please.” She stopped once more, his words somehow reaching her. “A demon killed our dad and our mom, the same one. We want to find that thing and kill it, no matter what it takes. You know a lot about demons and we honestly need all the help we can get. At least take our numbers. You don’t have to give us yours but…please just let us know if you find anything on a yellow-eyed demon.”

Lacey’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, only long enough for them to get a glimpse of it. “Fine. I’ll give you a call, I guess. I am warning you; I don’t play well with others.”

“We noticed,” Dean said grudgingly.

After taking their numbers and stuffing the paper into her pockets, Lacey gave Dean one last look. “Nice nose. Bit of an improvement if you ask me.” She then walked briskly to the door and disappeared without a glance back.

It was silent between the brothers for a moment.

“Dude--”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t ask me. I don’t even know.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The search for Yellow-Eyes is at a standstill and the Winchesters are running out of options.

A week or so passed and the boys were picking Bobby up from a visit to the Roadhouse, whom was still griping at them about losing one of the only working vehicles he’d owned. “Killer. Clown, Bobby. Killer clown. Besides, that thing barely ran at all,” Dean said defensively, mentally flinching at the memory of the Rakshasa.

“Whatever. Some of its parts were still useful,” Bobby grumbled.

“Is this really how we’re going to spend the rest of the drive? Arguing about some piece-of-crap car we took off your hands?” Sam blurted. Dean and Bobby both fell silent. “Can we talk about how it’s been weeks and we don’t have anything on the yellow-eyed demon?”

“Sam, there’s not much to go on to begin with. In the meantime-”

“We do what? Take random cases and twiddle our thumbs while that thing is still out there? Still hurting people? We’re wasting time here, Dean.”

Dean glanced back at Sam, frustrated. “We’ve had this conversation already. There’s not a whole lot we can do about it right now. We won’t stop looking, you know we won’t, but we gotta take a step back so we can get our shit together.”

Sam looked down at his hands, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “There’s still something we can do.”

“Oh yeah? And that is?”

“Lacey. The girl who got rid of that demon a few towns back. She knows a lot about them, Dean,” he said quietly, trying to hide his building anger.

“First of all, Sammy, she is just a kid. How she figured that case out, I have no idea; probably got lucky. There’s not anything she can tell us that we don’t already know. Second, we gave her our numbers, she didn’t give us hers. Even if she was a reliable source, there is no way we can get a hold of her.”

Sam clenched his jaw, wringing his hands into his jeans. “Bobby?”

The old hunter sighed and rolled his eyes. “I think Dean’s right. You’re getting too obsessive and, believe me, that doesn’t end well for most hunters. Your dad included.” There was no answer from the backseat so he went on. “I do think that this Lacey girl may have some answers or can at least give you the materials you need to start tracking. Sounds to me like she knows her demonology.”

“Finding her is the problem, Bobby. If she’s a decent hunter, it won’t be easy,” Dean reasoned.

“Won’t be easy, sure, but it can be done. I’ve built up a _Hunter’s Phonebook_ over the years and there’s more than a few names under Texas. You two idjits can’t be the only ones she ran into down there.  I’ll make some calls and see what’s been sent down the grapevine.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Sam said, sufficiently humbled.

“You’re welcome. Now, if you’re both done acting like a couple of six year-olds, let’s find a place to stop. Listening to you two argue is exhausting sometimes.”

\--

Sam and Dean hunkered down at Bobby’s for a few days, taking advantage of his vast library to learn as much as they could about demons. Every culture, every religion, seemed to have different theories and, more often than not, different kinds of demons. The ones with definite destructive purposes were easier to spot, due to special omens and patterns indicating their presence. It was the ‘ever-day’ demon that was overall harder to follow. Studying behavioral patterns of possible victims was one way to spot them but it took time and effort that most hunters just didn’t have. Even though they filled their heads with every piece of information they could get their hands on, the Winchesters still found themselves at a loss.

Three days after their extended study-session began, Bobby was the only one who had found anything. He walked into the study one afternoon, the room littered with open books, notes, and journals, and tossed a map on the desk in front of Sam. “Think I found your demon expert,” he said, looking tired but still quite pleased with himself.

Dean set aside the dusty volume he’d been combing through and leaned in to look over Sam’s shoulder. “What d’ya got?”

“I got a hold of a few friends own in Texas who lived in the greater San Antonio area. Most of them hadn’t seen or heard of anyone like this girl you described. One guy did see her; said they worked the same shifter case in Helotes not two days ago. When they finished, he said she took I-10 headed west. Now, I’ve been tracking the weather patterns and news reports on all sides of that highway and there’s been nothing until Arizona. Tucson’s had multiple lightning storms, reports of strange smells in homes, and up to six random murders within the last week. My best guess is that she’s there. Or headed there, at least.”

“That’s kind of a big assumption, don’t you think?” Dean stated, looking closer at the parts of the map Bobby had marked.

 “It’s all we’ve got, Dean,” Sam reasoned.

 “And it’s also a fifteen-hundred-mile drive.”

 “We’ve gone further for less.”

Dean shook his head. “Not by much. We might not even get there in time. She finished that last case before we had the time to pull our heads out of our asses. Chances are she could be moving on already.”

 “That’s a chance we have to take. Dean, we’ve gone through almost every book Bobby has that even mentions demons and we still don’t have anything we can really use. We don’t know any hunters who specialize in them so Lacey is the best choice we have.” There was a long moment in which the brothers tried to stare each other down. As usual, Sam won out; years of arguments with their father had left him with a higher tolerance for scrutiny.

 Dean cursed under his breath. “Okay, fine. Start packing; we’re leaving in an hour.”

 --

 Several hundred miles later, Sam and Dean were closing in on Tucson. Albuquerque, New Mexico was fading in their rearview mirror when suddenly Sam sat up from his slouched position, the click of the gears in his head almost audible. “Huh.”

 Dean, who had lost himself in road hypnosis to make the drive more bearable, snapped out of his trance. “What is it?”

 Without stopping to answer his brother, Sam reached into the back seat to find his duffel bag. He yanked the zipper open and started to rummage through it quite furiously.

 “Sam?”

 Once his hand found it, he yanked his suit jacket out of the bag and shoved his hand into the pocket. Sam held out a crumpled piece of paper to Dean. “We have her number.”

 Dean stared at Sam incredulously. “You’re serious? We’ve had that the whole time?” He nodded, staring at the scrap of paper with exhausted disbelief. “So, we’ve driven half-way across the goddamn country just to find that you’ve had a way of contacting this girl with a single phone call?” Sam said nothing, just stared ahead at the road. After a few moments of tension-filled silence, Dean reached across the seat and whacked Sam on the back of the head.

 “What the hell, Dean?”

 “Next time we make a cross-country trip for information, make sure that a fucking cell phone isn’t a manageable form of communication. ‘Kay?” Sam glared for a moment and then slumped in his seat out of exasperation. “You gonna call her or what?”

 “You make it sound like I’m going to ask her out on a date.”

 “If that date involves sharing info on demons, then yeah. Just make the call, Sammy.”

 Sam grimaced and pulled out his cell phone. It only took two rings before the other line picked up and a vaguely familiar voice come through. “Larkin speaking.”

 “Lacey, it’s Sam Winchester. I was wondering if—”

“Yes, I am. I’ve got two interviews lined up for this afternoon and I’ll have the full report in by four.”

 Sam frowned. “Wait, what are you—”

“Yes, sir; I understand. I will call you back as soon as I am done at the coroner’s office. Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Before Sam could even get another word in, the line went dead.  He stared at the little screen, frowning, and then looked over at his brother helplessly. “I think she’s in the middle of a case. Sounded busy.”

“If she’s still working that means we can catch up with her before she skips town.” Dean let his foot fall heavy on the gas, the speedometer jumping past the speed limit. “If luck is on our side, we can make it there in just over four hours.”

Sam nodded. “Let’s hope she’s not done by then.”

\---

They were less than thirty miles from Tucson when Sam’s phone started to ring. The number calling wasn’t labeled but Sam had stared at the piece of paper in his pocket long enough to recognize who it was. He flipped open his phone but a voice came on before he could even force out a greeting.

“How did you get this number?”

Sam gave Dean an almost panicked look. “I—uh—we got it from an officer back in China Grove. You left it for him to contact you with.” She cursed, something almost comical to hear in her voice’s decibel.

Without warning, Dean grabbed the phone and put it one speaker. “Might want to try switching phones more often. Could help you avoid this kind of thing.”

“What do you want?”

“You don’t have to skirt around the issue so much. Jesus. Look, we know you’re in Tucson and it just so happens that we’re headed there now. Thought it might be a good time to catch up.”

“You’re not nearly as amusing as you think you are, Winchester. If you don’t give a good reason for calling me, I--”

“Okay, okay.” Dean shot Sam an irritated look. “We’ve hit a dead end on the demon search and we…we’re asking for your help.”

“And where exactly did you think that would get you?”

“Look, you said you’d give us some information--”

“Yes, if I had any. I told you I’d give you a call if I heard anything about a yellow-eyed demon. The black-eyed ones are plenty active, though, I can assure you.”

Dean looked over at Sam as if to say I-told-you-it-was-a-dead-end. “We know you’re in Tucson on a case. Demon, right? We’re about twenty miles from town and, unless you’ve finished up in record time, I think we could help you out. Mind meeting us somewhere?”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

Dean chuckled. “Maybe because the local police station might just receive an anonymous tip about someone impersonating a federal officer. Would that cause some problems?”

The other end went deadly silent but Dean swore he could hear her breathing through clenched teeth. He was beginning to think that maybe she’d hung up when Parks grit out her response: “I’m at a Motel 8 off I-10. First exit once you get into town. Room 119.”

Dean smiled to himself and flipped his phone shut. Sam stared at him incredulously, shaking his head. “Did you seriously just blackmail her into helping us?”

“Gotta get your hands dirty sometime, Sammy.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Will be a mulit-chapter fic and a multiple-part series. Stay tuned and let me know what you think so far?)


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